Good or Evil
by warpterror
Summary: What if Joffrey Waters was not the vicious idiot we all know him as? What if the Starks were a house that was renowned not for its honour but rather for their cunning and efficiency? Read and find out...
1. Prologue

**NOTES: This is the prologue to my first fanfiction. I plan for this story to be around 20000 words and a lot of it will be AU. It will center around what would have been if historically House Stark was not as honourable as in Cannon and more involved in the game of thrones, than it is in the series proper. Just in case, I already know how I want to end this story, but the in-between part I will decide on as I am writing. Also I do not own any of the characters. **

**This story is rated M for graphic descriptions of violence, sex, torture and implied rape.**

The waters of the Trident flowed red with blood. The loyalist forces were defeated and the crown prince lay dead at the hands of Robert Baratheon. To almost anyone present the war would seem over then and there. Lord Eddard Stark knew better.

Even the great river could not wash away the stench of blood, sweat and death that lingered for hours after the battle was over. Only two thirds of the rebel army remained standing, and none of the soldiers still alive would have had the energy to look for the wounded any longer, if not for their persistent screams of agony.

As the lord of Winterfell finished giving orders for his troops to break camp after the battle and for the maesters to be sent to where their expertise of healing was required, he dismounted from his warhorse. His right arm felt like it was on fire and he could see darkness around the corners of his vision. After Robert gallivanted off to fight Rhaegar in a duel like some half brained hero from a court song, it fell to Eddard to lead the rebel forces. Perhaps that was a good thing, for if it continued the way it was going while Robert was in charge they would have surely lost, thought the lord of the North to himself.

As Ned Stark made his way to where the aforementioned "King" of Westeros himself was attended to by at least a dozen knights and squires he recognised the man being brought before him as one of the members of what was left of the kingsguard. His formerly white cloak was now red and Ned was sure that some of the blood on it belonged to the knight himself.

"...maester Cressen will see to it." Ned heard Robert finish saying, as he reached his future king. He didn't need to hear the rest to realise what is going on.

"Robert, you practically won the war and now you risk everything by sending your maester away to tend to the enemy when you are wounded? Lord Stark demanded.

Robert Baratheon startled at Ned's sudden question and turned to face him.

"Ah Ned, I see you survived the carnage. Why always the long face? Come lets have a drink and celebrate this victory!"

" With all due respect your Grace, lord Stark speaks true." Admitted lord Bolton, who Ned realised was one of the men standing behind the future king. The FUTURE king. Always the boot-licker that one, Eddard thought of Roose Bolton the leach lord. Though he had to admit, that the lord of the Dreadfort did have a mind for strategy. "It would be wiser to slit his throat, than to let him live." He had a way of speaking that despite being quiet let the leach lord be heard.

"He fought bravely to protect those he swore to. I will need men like that alive and by my side when I become King and my beloved Lyanna my Queen. I would rather she be kept safe by men that are loyal on to death, lest she fall in danger again." Said the Robert sparing the knight before him a glance.

"As you said yourself he is loyal. But not to you." Replied lord Stark. "Even if you do not want to end his life, at the least do not waist your maester on him. Even if your wounds are less severe, your life will be in danger if they fester and right now your life is more important than his."

"Even so, it is the honourable thing to do and as King I..."

"You are not King yet Robert and I will not have the deaths of our soldiers here today be for nothing." No, the real reason is that you want the man who served your family's murderer dead, thought Ned to himself, as he stared at the lord of Storms End.

They lock gazes and Robert is the first to look away. The future King laughs in a short bark and tells one of his squires to fetch back maester Cressen.

"That's Ned for you, always cold and calculating. Typical Stark." He says to no one in particular, as he shakes his head and smiles sadly, before looking back at Eddard.

"Gods you look like death itself Ned. I'd tell you to rest after the battle, but since you are so intent on securing my crown I'm going to allow you to take ten thousand men and move to take Kings Landing. By the Gods, enough of those fucking Targeryen loyalists made it out to spread the news." He looked genuinely upset about not being able to take the capitol in person, as it looked quite unlikely that he would be travelling anywhere due to his wounds.

Ned Stark groaned inwardly at the prospect of at least eight more days hard riding south.

"It will take until dawn for my men to rest themselves and their mounts. I shall depart ones they have recovered." There will be no rest for him, as he would need to organise the march south. The battle at the Trident had lasted almost a full day and the aftermath well in to the night. And now he will set off again come the morrow.

Robert nodded his agreement and lord Stark left him to the care of the returned maester.

Just before Eddard Stark left with his force of ten thousand Northern riders there came to him a report saying that ser Barristan Selmy, the wounded kingsguard had died of his wounds. Ned would be lying if he said he felt sad about it. But then again, lying was nothing new to him.


	2. Chapter 1

Bran watched as the deserters head rolled away from his body and landed at the feet of Theon Greyjoy. The lord of the Iron Islands laughed as he kicked it away. **_Lord _**of the Iron Islands yet still a ward in Winterfell. _**Lord**_ ever since Bran's father took of Balon Greyjoys head at the end of his unsuccessful rebellion. Took off his head just like he did with the deserter before him.

On the way back to Winterfell his father asked him if he knew why the Stark lords carried out the executions themselves. He did not, so his father told him- "It's to drive fear in to the enemies of our house. It's to show them that no lord of Winterfell will blanch at taking a life of another man if the need arises. It's to show that we are not weak and will show no mercy to those that betray their vows to us. Remember this Bran, fear is the greatest weapon there is and a lord of the North must always be close to his weapon, for if you are unarmed you will not be ready when winter comes."

**_Winter is coming._** Bran was taught those words since he was a child. The words of his house and his family, they were to serve both as a reminder to always be prepared and as a threat to those that angered the Starks. A threat that as good as says that sooner or later the Starks will have their vengeance.

He was distracted from his thoughts by Robb and Bran's bastard brother Jon returning from their race ahead to tell everyone of what they found. A giant wolf, killed by a stag, its body surrounded by its five pups. Still trying to suckle, even though the milk went dry long ago.

It was decided that the pups were to be put down, and perhaps they would have been if not for Jon's intervention. They almost didn't notice the sixth wolf.

* * *

Catelyn Stark thought that The White Knife River looked especially beautiful during sunset. They said that ones upon a time the river ran around Winterfell by hundreds of miles, until Brandon the Second, also known as Brandon the Shipwright redirected it so it passed right through Winter Town. Apparently the ancient King loved the sea so much that he decided that it would not do for house Stark to go without a proper fleet. Something insignificant, like lack of traversable water for hundreds of miles around would never stop a true King in the North. She tried not to think of the people that died in their thousands while trying to fulfil the ancient rulers wish, and just enjoy the lovely view. She managed with mixed success.

She looked away from the window in her chambers as she heard a knock on her door. It was maester Luwin with a letter for Lord Eddard Stark. It was in Robert Baratheons own hand.

She found Ned in the Godswood before the heart tree, as she knew she would. He was bent down on his knee, wiping his ancestral sword clean, although she doubted any trace of blood remained. After giving him the letter she watched as her husband read it, his eyes quickly scanning through the contents. After he finished and put down the letter, he looked up in to her eyes.

"Jon Arryn is dead" He proclaimed, "and Robert is coming North."

She knew what that meant. The hand of the King was dead and the King was coming here. The reason would be obvious even to the most dimwitted peasant.

* * *

Joffrey Baratheon couldn't wait to see the Winterfell. His father had told him many stories about the great seat of House Stark. Some of those stories used to scare him when he was little and a few still did. That however just added to the excitement, as in his view a haunted castle was going to be much more fun than court and learning how to rule.

He had also heard many stories about Eddard Stark the Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and his fathers best friend. The different tales varied from how he single handedly killed Ser Arthur Dayne in combat, to how he turned the battle of The Trident in his fathers favour. Uncle Jaime even told him of how Eddard Stark made him stand from the Iron throne. _"I thought he was going to kill me right there and then, just for taking his chance at revenge from him."_ His uncle described to him.

Joff held his breath as the Winterfell came in to view. It was one of the most impressive castles he had ever seen, boasting even its own harbour and large walled town at the foot of the rise it was built on.

He would have just sat on his horse and stared for who knows how long, but then he remembered that his Lady mother would probably disapprove of him openly gaping at something. The prince resumed an expression of cool indifference before rejoining the Royal party moving towards their destination. On the inside though, he was as exited as he ever remembered himself being, during all of his twelve and a half years of life.

**NOTES: I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed so far for their support and just say that I will try to post about two chapters each week if I can. Also this chapter was just a little more set-up for for chapters two and three which I will try to make much more exciting than this one. Also Daenerys will appear in the next chapter.**


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